Nedra eBook

THE INSPIRATION

A tall young man sped swiftly up the wide stone steps
leading to the doorway of a mansion in one of Chicago’s
most fashionable avenues. After pushing the button
sharply he jerked out his watch and guessed at the
time by the dull red light from the panel in the door.
Then he hastily brushed from the sleeve of his coat
the telltale billiard chalk, whose presence reminded
him that a general survey might be a wise precaution.
He was rubbing a white streak from his trousers’
leg when the door flew open and the butler admitted
him to the hallway. This personage relieved him
of his hat, coat and stick and announced:

“Miss Vernon is w’itin’ for you,
sir.”

“How the devil did I happen to let eight o’clock
strike nine before I knew it?” muttered the
visitor. He was at the drawing-room door as he
concluded this self-addressed reproach, extending both
hands toward the young woman who came from the fireplace
to meet him.

“How late you are, Hugh,” she cried, half
resentfully. He bent forward and kissed her.

“It’s nearly seventy minutes past eight,
sir. I’ve been waiting and watching the
hands on the clock for just sixty minutes.”

“I never saw such a perfect crank about keeping
time as that grandfatherly clock of yours. It
hasn’t skipped a second in two centuries, I’ll
swear. You see, I was playing off the odd game
with Tom Ditton.”

He dropped lazily into a big arm-chair, drove his
hands into his pockets and stretched out his long
legs toward the grate.

“You might have come at eight, Hugh, on this
night if no other. You knew what important things
we have to consider.” Miss Vernon, tall
and graceful, stood before him with her back to the
fire. She was exceedingly pretty, this girl whom
Hugh had kissed.

“I’m awfully sorry, Grace; but you know
how it is when a fellow’s in a close, hard game—­especially
with a blow-hard like Tom Ditton.”

“If I forgive you again, I’m afraid you’ll
prove a begging husband.”

“Never! Deliver me from a begging husband.
I shall assert all kinds of authority in my house,
Miss Vernon, and you’ll be in a constant state
of beggary yourself. You’ll have to beg
me to get up in the morning, beg me to come home early
every night, beg me to swear off divers things, beg
me to go to church, beg me to buy new hats for you,
beg me to eat things you cook, beg me to—­”

“I suppose I shall even have to beg you to kiss
me,” she cried.

“Not at all. That is one thing I’ll
beg of you. Lean over here, do, and kiss me,
please,” he said invitingly.

She placed a hand on each arm of the chair and leaned
forward obediently. Their lips met in a smile.

“You lazy thing!” she exclaimed, her face
slightly flushed. Then she seated herself on
one of the big arms, resting her elbow on the back
of the chair beside his head. For a few minutes
both were silent, gazing at the bright coals before
them, the smile remaining upon their lips. Hugh
had been squinting between the toes of his shoes at
a lonely black chunk in the grate for some time before
he finally spoke reflectively.